Bellatrix, not Bella
by TheMaraudersaremyhomies
Summary: Oneshot, Bellatrix as she dies and moves on. I got sick of fics portraying her as deranged and slutty and so I decided to write one about her as a woman who went to any lengths to gain independence from her parents and husband.


**A Bellatrix Voldy oneshot.**

**Just drabble, never would actually happen.**

**SOooo yeah. No Flames please.**

I used to love the parties mother held on the back lawn. My sisters and me used to be best friends, laughing the night away and whispering sweet, eternally unfulfilled promises, beckoning the dawn. I used to be Bella Black.

And then I was my husband's, or so he thought. Bellatrix Lestrange. It was expected for me to marry him, he came from a good family. He was weak, he was an arse. I could not bear the thought of living out my years with him. So I ran. I flew to the corners of the earth, but they dragged me back. Bound and gagged me to get to my own wedding, then imperused me for the cerimony. Because that's who the Blacks are, aren't they? Ancient and most Noble?

When I broke free of the curse, I was on my honeymoon, and my husband had already claimed what he believed to be his. I was never his, I wasn't anyones. But then my husband turned out to be marginally useful: he took me to the first meeting of the Death Eaters.

The man was so pale, so odd, and seething with power. He was his own, no one could control him. He knew me, he came inside my mind and searched my soul before he gave me the mark, and there was something about his mysterious stare that held me. I think that was the day I fell in love with Lord Voldemort.

With him, it wasn't Bella Black, or Bella Lestrange. It was Bellatrix. The name held so much power, and the way he said it, drawing it out, was beautiful. Not Bella anymore, not someone who would be forced to do what mummy and daddy told her too.

So much is in a name. Because of their names, I have killed numerous mudbloods and traitors, and thought nothing of it. Because of a name, I stopped speaking to my favorite sister. Because of a name I have killed my own cousin, the only Black besides me with any type of fire. Because of the name that my lord gave to me, I am changed.

My lord never loved me like I loved him. But he knew what he meant to me, the freedom he gave me. Even after Askaban addled my mind, I still remembered our first moments together. Us, together. What a silly fantasy I've held, all these years.

As the blood traitor Weasley's spell hits me in the chest, I hear my lord howl with rage, and in my death I exult as I fall into nothingness. He loves me, he cared. As I walk into the realms of death, memories seep through my mind, but the most beautiful of them all comes from the night before the battle.

He was alone, my lord was, in a room cold and dark, going through the plans to kill the Potter boy. I crept in, to watch him, knowing I would be punished most harshly if I was caught, crucioed to obliviation. I knocked the wall as I swept in, and he turned. I hung my head, awaiting the pain, but strangely none seemed to come. I lifted my eyes, and they were brimming with tears at his kindness. What had possessed him? It could not have been lust, I was well beyond my prime and he was above such trivial desires.

"Bellatrix." He sighed, stroking his wand, and he looked up, eyes wide with fear. I had to be dreaming. My lord could not fear, that type of humanity was not in him.

"My lord, I am sorry, I beg your forgiveness-" I started, but he motioned for me to hush.

"Did I ever tell you that my name was once Tom Marvolo Riddle?" He asks me, and I stare. Not to anyone has he ever admitted anything about himself.

"No, my lord." I answer, rapt in wonder. He sighs, looking down at his feet, then hardens once more, looking up, his pupils slits again.

"That man does not exist anymore." He snaps, "Be grateful I didn't punish you, Bellatrix."

But oh, my lord, as I wander the wasteland of the dead, I realize you did punish me, you really did. You let me hope that for one, unstopable moment, you loved me as I did you.

You really were a master in pain.

Many of my fellow death eaters are here with me, and looking around me it is clear that this is neither heaven or hell, but something in between. Why was I here, I should me down in the fires below for my deeds. Why had the afterlife granted me another chance?

I look down into a pool of gray water, and I find that death has erased the years from my face, and I look once more as I did when I first met my lord, when I became Bellatrix. I ignore the ones around me, and they igore me. I am finally, at last alone. I hear footsteps behind me.

"Bella, I've come." He says.

Tom Riddle has joined me at last.


End file.
